[252] See Baker, _pa.s.sim_.

[253] Dramatic Miscellanies, vol. iii., chap. 24. Most of the above particulars respecting Hart and Mohun have been gathered from that work. There are scarcely any records of them elsewhere.

[254] Cibber's 'Apology,' _ut supra_, p. 226.

[255] "March 1st (1671). I thence walked with him through St. James's Parke to the garden, where I both saw and heard a very familiar discourse between ... and Mrs. Nellie, as they called an impudent comedian, she looking out of her garden on a terrace at the top of the wall, and ... standing on ye greene walke under it. I was heartily sorry at this scene. Thence the King walked to the d.u.c.h.ess of Cleveland, another lady of pleasure, and curse of our nation."--Evelyn's 'Memoirs,' _ut supra_, vol. ii., p. 339. It would be curious to know how Mr. Evelyn conducted himself during this time, if he and the King saw one another.

[256] Miscellaneous Works of the Duke of Buckingham and others. 1704, vol. i., p. 34.

[257] The verses are attributed to Etherege; but, from a Scotch rhyme in them of _trull_ and _will_, are perhaps not his.

[258] History of His own Times, Edin. 1753, vol. i., p. 387.

[259] Tatler, No. 182.

[260] Tatler, No. 188. See also No. 7.

[261] Apology, p. 303.

[262] Baker's Biographia Dramatica, Art. Farquhar, vol. i., p. 155.

Faithful Memoirs, &c., of Mrs. Anne Oldfield, by Egerton, p. 76.

[263] Apology, p. 250.

[264] Tatler, No. 10.

[265] Letters from the Rev. J. Orton and the Rev. Sir John Stonhouse, quoted in the "General Biographical Dictionary," vol. xxiii. p. 326.

[266] Memoirs, p. 144.

[267] Memoirs of Richard c.u.mberland, written by himself, 4to. p. 59.

Davies, in his "Life of Garrick," vol. i. p. 136, gives us a different idea of the preference awarded by the audience. To be sure, upon his knowledge, he says only that Quin was defeated "in the opinion of the best judges;" but he adds, from report, an anecdote that looks as if the general feeling also was against him. "When Lothario," he says, "gave Horatio the challenge, Quin, instead of accepting it instantaneously, with the determined and unembarra.s.sed brow of superior bravery, made a long pause, and dragged out the words,

'I'll meet thee there!'

in such a manner as to make it appear absolutely ludicrous. He paused so long before he spoke, that somebody, it was said, called out from the gallery, 'Why don't you tell the gentleman whether you will meet him or not?'"

[268] Davis's Miscellanies, _ut supra_, vol. i., p. 126.

[269] Since this was written, Covent Garden has been converted into an Italian Opera House, has been a second time burnt, and a third time rebuilt; the architect being Mr. Barry, a son of Sir Charles Barry, who designed and erected the New Houses of Parliament.

[270] Alluding to her performance of Cordelia, &c., with the one, and of Juliet, Belvidera, &c., with the other.

[271] The Rosciad.

[272] "He (Thomson) left behind him the tragedy of 'Coriola.n.u.s,' which was, by the zeal of his patron, Sir George Lyttleton, brought upon the stage for the benefit of his family, and recommended by a prologue, which Quin, who had long lived with Thomson in fond intimacy, spoke in such a manner as showed him 'to be,' on that occasion, 'no actor.' The commencement of this benevolence is very honourable to Quin; who is reported to have delivered Thomson, then known to him only for his genius, from an arrest, by a very considerable present; and its continuance is honourable to both, for friendship is not always the sequel of obligation." Life, by Dr. Johnson, in Chalmers's 'Poets,' p.

409.

[273] Alas! now dead. This pa.s.sage was written before the departure of our admirable friend.

CHAPTER VIII.

COVENT GARDEN CONTINUED AND LEICESTER SQUARE.

Bow Street once the Bond Street of London -- Fashions at that time -- Infamous frolic of Sir Charles Sedley and others -- Wycherly and the Countess of Drogheda -- Tonson the Bookseller -- Fielding -- Russell Street -- Dryden beaten by hired ruffians in Rose Street -- His Presidency at Will's Coffee-House -- Character of that Place -- Addison and b.u.t.ton's Coffee-House -- Pope, Philips, and Garth -- Armstrong -- Boswell's introduction to Johnson -- The Hummums -- Ghost Story there -- Covent Garden -- The Church -- Car, Earl of Somerset -- Butler, Southern, Eastcourt, Sir Robert Strange -- Macklin -- Curious Dialogue with him when past a century -- Dr. Walcot -- Covent Garden Market -- Story of Lord Sandwich, Hackman, and Miss Ray -- Henrietta Street -- Mrs. Clive -- James Street -- Partridge, the almanack-maker -- Mysterious lady -- King Street -- Arne and his Father -- The four Indian Kings -- Southampton Row -- Maiden Lane -- Voltaire -- Long Acre and its Mug-Houses -- Prior's resort there -- Newport Street -- St. Martin's Lane, and Leicester Square -- Sir Joshua Reynolds -- Hogarth -- Sir Isaac Newton.

Bow Street was once the Bond Street of London. Mrs. Bracegirdle began an epilogue of Dryden's with saying--

"I've had to-day a dozen billet-doux From fops, and wits, and cits, and Bow-street beaux; Some from Whitehall, but from the Temple more: A Covent-garden porter brought me four."

Sir Walter Scott says, in a note on the pa.s.sage, "With a slight alteration in spelling, a modern poet would have written _Bond Street_ beaux. A billet-doux from Bow Street would now be more alarming than flattering."[274]

Mrs. Bracegirdle spoke this epilogue at Drury Lane. There was no Covent Garden theatre then. People of fashion occupied the houses in Bow Street, and mantuas floated lip and down the pavement. This was towards the end of the Stuart's reign, and the beginning of the next century--the times of Dryden, Wycherly, and the Spectator. The beau of Charles's time is well-known. He wore, when in full flower, a peruke to imitate the flowing locks of youth, a Spanish hat, clothes of slashed silk or velvet, the slashes tied with ribands, a coat resembling a vest rather than the modern coat, and silk stockings, with roses in his shoes. The Spanish was afterwards changed for the c.o.c.ked hat, the flowing peruke for one more compact; the coat began to stiffen into the modern shape, and when in full dress, the beau wore his hat under his arm. His grimaces have been described by Dryden--

"His various modes from various fathers follow; One taught the toss, and one the new French wallow; His sword-knot this, his cravat that designed; And this the yard-long snake that twirls behind.

From one the sacred periwig he gained, Which wind ne'er blew, nor touch of hat profaned.

Another's diving bow he did adore, Which with a shog casts all the hair before, Till he, with full decorum, brings it back, And rises with a water-spaniel shake."[275]

One of these perukes would sometimes cost forty or fifty pounds. The fair s.e.x at this time waxed and waned through all the varieties of dishabilles, hoop-petticoats, and stomachers. We must not enter upon this boundless sphere, especially as we have to treat upon it from time to time. We shall content ourselves with describing a set of lady's clothes, advertised as stolen in the year 1709, and which would appear to have belonged to a belle resolved to strike even Bow Street with astonishment. They consisted of "a black silk petticoat, with a red-and-white calico border; cherry-coloured stays, trimmed with blue and silver; a red and dove-coloured damask gown, flowered with large trees; a yellow satin ap.r.o.n, trimmed with white Persian; muslin head-cloths, with crowfoot edging; double ruffles with fine edging; a black silk furbelowed scarf, and a spotted hood!"[276] It is probable, however, the lady did not wear all these colours at once.

A tavern in Bow Street, the c.o.c.k, became notorious for a frolic of Sir Charles Sedley, Lord Buckhurst, and others, frequently mentioned in the biographies, but too disgusting to be told. There was an account of it in Pepys' ma.n.u.script, but it was obliged to be omitted in the printing. Anthony a Wood found it out, and first gave it to the public. It was not commonly dissolute, there was a filthiness in it, which would have been incredible if told of any other period than that of the fine gentlemen of the court of Charles. What can be repeated has been told by Johnson in his life of Sackville, Lord Dorset.

"Sackville, who was then Lord Buckhurst, with Sir Charles Sedley, and Sir Thomas Ogle, got drunk at the c.o.c.k, in Bow Street, by Covent Garden, and going into the balcony, exposed themselves to the company in very indecent postures. At last, as they grew warmer, Sedley stood forth naked, and harangued the populace in such profane language, that the public indignation was awakened; the crowd attempted to force the door, and being repulsed, drove in the performers with stones, and broke the windows of the house. For this misdemeanour they were indicted, and Sedley was fined five hundred pounds; what was the sentence of the others is not known. Sedley employed Killegrew and another to procure a remission of the King, but (mark the friendship of the dissolute!) they begged the fine for themselves, and exacted it to the last groat."

Opposite this tavern lived Wycherly, with his wife, the Countess of Drogheda. Charles paid him a visit there, before Wycherly knew the lady; and showed him a kindness which his marriage is said to have interrupted. The story begins and ends with Bow Street, and, as far as concerns the lady, is curious.

"Mr. Wycherly," says the biographer, "happened to be ill of a fever at his lodgings in Bow Street, Covent Garden: during his sickness, the King did him the honour of a visit: when, finding his fever indeed abated, but his body extremely weakened, and his spirits miserably shattered, he commanded him to take a journey to the south of France, believing that nothing could contribute more to the restoring his former state of health than the gentle air of Montpelier during the winter season: at the same time, the King a.s.sured him, that as soon as he was able to undertake the journey, he would order five hundred pounds to be paid him to defray the expenses of it.

"Mr. Wycherly accordingly went to France, and returned to England the latter end of the spring following, with his health entirely restored. The King received him with the utmost marks of esteem, and shortly after told him he had a son, who he resolved should be educated like the son of a king, and that he could make choice of no man so proper to be his governor as Mr.

Wycherly; and that, for this service, he should have fifteen hundred pounds a-year allotted to him; the King also added, that when the time came that his office should cease, he would take care to make such a provision for him as should set him above the malice of the world and fortune. These were golden prospects for Mr. Wycherly, but they were soon by a cross accident dashed to pieces.

"Soon after this promise of his Majesty's, Mr. Dennis tells us that Mr. Wycherly went down to Tunbridge, to take either the benefit of the waters or the diversions of the place, when, walking one day upon the Wells-walk with his friend, Mr.

Fairbeard, of Gray's Inn, just as he came up to the bookseller's, the Countess of Drogheda, a young widow, rich, n.o.ble, and beautiful, came up to the bookseller and inquired for the 'Plain Dealer.' 'Madam,' says Mr. Fairbeard, 'since you are for the "Plain Dealer," there he is for you,' pushing Mr.

Wycherly towards her. 'Yes,' says Mr. Wycherly, 'this lady can bear plain-dealing, for she appears to be so accomplished, that what would be a compliment to others, when said to her would be plain-dealing.' 'No, truly, sir,' said the lady, 'I am not without my faults more than the rest of my s.e.x: and yet, notwithstanding all my faults, I love plain-dealing, and am never more fond of it than when it tells me of a fault.' 'Then, Madam,' says Mr. Fairbeard, 'you and the plain dealer seem designed by heaven for each other.' In short, Mr. Wycherly accompanied her upon the walks, waited upon her home, visited her daily at her lodgings whilst she stayed at Tunbridge; and after she went to London, at her lodgings in Hatton Garden: where, in a little time, he obtained her consent to marry her.

This he did, by his father's command, without acquainting the King; for it was reasonably supposed, that the lady's having a great independent estate, and n.o.ble and powerful relations, the acquainting the King with the intended match would be the likeliest way to prevent it. As soon as the news was known at court, it was looked upon as an affront to the King, and a contempt of his Majesty's orders; and Mr. Wycherly's conduct after marrying made the resentment fall heavier upon him: for being conscious he had given offence, and seldom going near the court, his absence was construed into ingrat.i.tude.

"The Countess, though a splendid wife, was not formed to make a husband happy; she was in her nature extremely jealous; and indulged in it to such a degree, that she could not endure her husband should be one moment out of her sight. Their lodgings were in Bow Street, Covent Garden, over against the c.o.c.k Tavern, whither, if Mr. Wycherly at any time went, he was obliged to leave the windows open, that his lady might see there was no woman in the company."[277]

"The Countess," says another writer, "made him some amends by dying in a reasonable time." His t.i.tle to her fortune, however, was disputed, and his circ.u.mstances, though he had property, were always constrained. He was rich enough however to marry a young woman a few days before he died, in order to disappoint a troublesome heir. In his old age he became acquainted with Pope, then a youth, who vexed him by taking him at his word, when asked to correct his poetry. Wycherly showed a candid horror at growing old, natural enough to a man who had been one of the gayest of the gay, very handsome, and a "Captain." He was captain in the regiment of which Buckingham was colonel. We have mentioned the d.u.c.h.ess of Cleveland's visits to him when a student in the Temple. Wycherly is the greatest of all our comic dramatists for truth of detection in what is ill, as Congreve is the greatest painter of artificial life, and Farquhar and Hoadley the best discoverers of what is pleasant and good-humoured. When the profligacy of writers like Wycherly is spoken of, we should not forget that much of it is not only confined to certain characters, but that the detection of these characters leaves an impression on the mind highly favourable to genuine morals. A modern critic, as excellent in his remarks on the drama as the one quoted at the conclusion of our last chapter is upon the stage, says on this point, speaking of the comedy of the "Plain Dealer,"--"The character of Manly is violent, repulsive, and uncouth, which is a fault, though one that seems to have been intended for the sake of contrast; for the portrait of consummate, artful hypocrisy in Olivia, is, perhaps, rendered more striking by it. The indignation excited against this odious and pernicious quality by the masterly exposure to which it is here subjected, is 'a discipline of humanity.'

No one can read this play attentively without being the better for it as long as he lives. It penetrates to the core; it shows the immorality and hateful effects of duplicity, by showing it fixing its harpy fangs in the heart of an honest and worthy man. It is worth ten volumes of sermons. The scenes between Manly, after his return, Olivia, Plausible, and Norel, are instructive examples of unblushing impudence, of shallow pretensions to principle, and of the most mortifying reflections on his own situation, and bitter sense of female injustice and ingrat.i.tude on the part of Manly. The devil of hypocrisy and hardened a.s.surance seems worked up to the highest pitch of conceivable effrontery in Olivia, when, after confiding to her cousin the story of her infamy, she, in a moment, turns round upon her for some sudden purpose, and affecting not to know the meaning of the other's allusions to what she had just told her, reproaches her with forging insinuations to the prejudice of her character, and in violation of their friendship. 'Go! you're a censorious woman.' This is more trying to the patience than anything in the Tartuffe."

Tonson, the great bookseller of his time, had a private house in Bow Street. Rowe, in an amusing parody of Horace's dialogue with Lydia, has left an account of old Jacob's visitors here, and of his style of language.

Tonson got rich, but he was penurious; and his want of generosity towards Dryden (to say the least of it) has done him no honour with posterity. It may be said that he cared little for posterity or for anything else, provided he got his money; but a man who cares for money (unless he is a pure miser) only cares for power and consideration in another shape; and no man chooses to be disliked by his fellow-creatures, living, or to come. In the correspondence between Tonson and Dryden, we see the usual painful picture (when the bookseller is of this description) of the tradesman taking all the advantages, and the author made to suffer for being a gentleman and a man of delicacy. This is the common, and, perhaps, the natural order of things, till society see better throughout; though there have been, and still are, some handsome exceptions, as in the instances of Dodsley, the late Mr. Johnson, and others. The bookseller generally behaves well, in proportion to his intelligence; nothing being so eager to catch all petty advantages as the consciousness of having no other ground to go upon. It may be answered that Dryden's patience with Tonson sometimes got exhausted, and he became "captious and irritable:" and it is always to be remembered that the bookseller need not pretend to be anything more than a tradesman seeking his allowed profits; but he should not on every occasion retreat into the strongholds of trade, and yet claim the merit of acting otherwise; and Tonson, who undertook to be the familiar friend of Rowe and Congreve, ought not to have been able to insult the man whom they both respected, because he was not so well off as they. The following pa.s.sage of mingled amus.e.m.e.nt and painfulness is out of Sir Walter Scott:--